


Night Time is the Right Time

by setos_puppy



Category: True Blood
Genre: Hippies, M/M, Marijuana, Woodstock, mild drug use, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 11:56:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4605828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setos_puppy/pseuds/setos_puppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Godric decides he needs to unwind.  He drags Eric and Pam to a music festival in Woodstock, NY.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Time is the Right Time

It had been Godric's idea.

 

Of course it had been Godric's idea.

 

He had fallen in love with the counterculture movement, loved its radical, rebellious stance while being decidedly mellow in its actions. Eric had found it bothersome, annoying, and so very human in its existence. Pam enjoyed the topless women, so, she hadn't complained.

 

Which is why they were now in Bethel, New York in the middle of muddy, crowded fields under cover of darkness; rain endlessly pouring down on the half a million denizens of a hippie outdoor concert extravaganza. Bodies swayed and thrashed to the music pulsating over the wet, smoke-filled air, a mixture of jazz and gospel of a singer and accompanying band known as Melanie Safka. 

 

People were in various states of dress, or lack thereof, huddled together in the rain, kissing, groping, or just talking. People spilled out over the mud in soaked towels, makeshift tents and hanging out of the backs of cars, trucks and vans. It was amazing that people were still awake, still moving...

 

Godric's face glowed in the lights from the stage, from the moon, the fires burning. "Amazing!"

 

"Where are we going to sleep?" Eric groused as they trekked through the mud, looking out of place in their well maintained clothing and their polished looks.

 

"I'm sure there's somewhere..." Godric reasoned, his eyes following various flower people. He smiled when a couple, male and female, called him over to their van. "Go mingle, child," he whispered before flitting off to go flirt shamelessly.

 

Eric opened his mouth to chastise his Maker, but sighed and looked to Pam. Pam was slowly beginning to look more and more like the people they were surrounded by. She had abandoned her stilettos, which were held in her hand, caked with mud. He had expected her to be more uptight with everything, but he suspected the allure of half-naked and naked morsels of food were calling to her. She was an expert at blending in, as opposed to Eric, who stood out against the tanned, dark haired youth.

 

"Sister," a girl rasped, her breasts barely covered by her long, dishwater blonde hair and thick array of love beads. She pressed against Pam, her eyes unfocused, petting her hair. "You're glowing."

 

Pam smiled at the girl, listening to her inebriated babble before getting dragged off towards a group of people around a fire with a half-managed wave to Eric. 

 

~*~

 

Godric purred as his hair was pet. The whole feel of Woodstock reminded him of bacchanals back when he was human. It felt like home, the disorganized, chaotic throng, the free love attitude and embrace of mind-numbing substances. He had his fill of the pretty girl in a thin cotton dress, she was sleeping off his effects on a pile of cushions and blankets. She had effected him as well, her blood tainted with lysergic acid diethylamide. Though it didn't effect him in the way that it would a human his size and suspected age, it definitely made things interesting. Everything was brighter, the air just a little uneven, and he felt so in tune with everything, and mellow, moreso than usual. Taking the offered marijuana cigarette, Godric took a long drag, feeling the smoke dance through his body, before he exhaled and handed it back. 

 

He could definitely get used to this.

 

"There you are!"

 

"Hm?" Godric opened his closed eyes to look at Eric, who was tromping his way through the mud. "Eric!"

 

"They've poisoned you!"

 

"Chill out, man," the boy whose lap Godric's head was currently occupying, his name was Oliver, and he had come all the way from Florida. "It was just a little acid."

 

"Yeah," Godric retorted, sounding like the child he embodied. "Chill out." Laughing, Godric took the offered marijuana again and took a puff. "Sit with us and listen to the music."

 

Eric looked like he was torn between screaming and slapping Godric back into the real world and mauling Oliver. "I -- Godric!"

 

"It's just a bit of fun, Eric. Mindless entertainment, you should try it."

 

Eric looked scandalized before huffing and sitting down at Godric's hip before shifting his large body and laying his head in Godric's lap.

 

"Better," Godric praised, petting Eric's hair.

 

Thunder rumbled overhead and more rain soaked the ground.

 

~*~

 

"Did you have a good night?" Godric asked Pam as he and Eric located her. They were making their way towards a barn not too far off to sleep off the day before rejoining the masses at sunset.

 

"I'm definitely enjoying myself," Pam replied, grinning.

 

She looked so unlike herself, stripped down to jeans, soaked through with mud and spotted with blood of those she had fed from. Her shoes had gotten lost in the mess, and her shirt was nothing more than a ripped and tattered memory. Her hair was braided and held back from her face by a thin, leather band. The only thing covering her naked torso, aside from the mud, was a handful of beaded necklaces and a vest held closed by a single button. She was a perfect match for Godric who was wearing a pair of borrowed, patchwork cotton pants and a sheepskin leather vest. He too, had love beads, as well as a well crafted wreath of flowers, which was well balanced on his dark, wet hair. Eric was covered in mud, but was the only one who didn't look like he was living on a commune. His jeans were ripped and starting to fray, but he was wearing a sweatshirt, that though borrowed because his fitted dress shirt made him look 'square' (Oliver's words), wasn't as 'far out' as some of the others he had seen. Also, he was the only one with shoes.

 

"Where're you going dudes?" A guy, sprawled in the back of his pick-up, asked. "Quill starts in a few hours!"

 

"We're going to grab some food," Pam excused, smiling flirtatiously at him and leaning against the back bumper of the truck. "Want something?"

 

"Oh, cool," the guy nodded, "really, food? I'd die for a chocolate milkshake and some couscous!"

 

"Consider it done."

 

"Groovy!"

 

They continued their trek, weaving through the still sleeping cows before hopping a fence and walked over to the barn. They found a cellar door and with quick ease Godric broke the lock and they descended. They curled up in a corner, covered by a thick blanket and some boxes, they went to sleep smelling like earth.

 

~*~

 

"Fucking hippies!"

 

Eric jolted when he was pelted by an apple before it was followed by a few tomatoes. He, Godric and Pam, were on their way back to the main grounds, which was maybe a forty minute walk at normal speed, since they had picked up some food for their human compatriots. And there were fucking anti-hippie protesters!

 

"What'd we ever do to you, man?" Pam called, echoed by a few others.

 

"Why don't you put on some clothes, young lady?"

 

Rolling her eyes, Pam continued walking, her arm moving around Godric's shoulders as they continued their walk. Eric couldn't help but want to support his Maker as well, who he could tell was upset that these humans were always so negative, so he took hold of Godric's hand.

 

"Figures! Fucking queer too! You're just as bad as the Jews and the rest of the faggots around here!"

 

Feeling his fangs slide out, Eric moved to whirl around and tear the young punk who dared call him a faggot, before the kid took one look at something behind him and took off running. Wondering what on earth could be scarier than a six-foot-five former Viking vampire, Eric turned to look behind him, and laughed. Breaking free from the mass of hippies were three men, one sporting an a-line skirt and halter top and heels, the two others wearing camoflauge pants, and they all had bats. They chased off the protesters and Eric looked to Godric who was beaming.

 

Suddenly he understood what his Maker saw in these humans.

 

~*~

 

The Grateful Dead blew out the speakers and it took the make-shift supervisors almost forty five minutes to fix it. While they waited, huddled around a fire, listening to various stories about sit-ins, or ex-Vietnam soilders horror stories, they sang and danced. The humans were amazing. They were protesting an unfair war, and for rights of people that were long overdue.

 

Eric got it.

 

He got why Godric loved it.

 

It was like home for his tiny, usually stoic maker.

 

For Eric, who had grown up on the battlefield, who saw protest and gatherings such as this as weakness and insubordination, it had taken him longer to understand. But he finally got it.

 

The humans were doing what they always did in times of war.

 

Living.

 

When Creedence Clearwater Revival started up with Born on the Bayou, Eric cheered with the rest of the crowd. When the marijuana was passed around, as useless as it was, Eric indulged. If only for the symbolic representation of rebellion.

 

Sometime between Bad Moon Rising and Proud Mary, Eric wound up with braids in his hair and love beads.

 

~*~

 

"You guys missed The Who," Oliver greeted them as they showed up the next night. They had fed on a triad further back, and wound up stoned off their asses because of it.

 

"Bummer." They said in unison, Eric climbed onto the roof of the VW van, stretching out.

 

"Some guy charged the stage, I think he was having a bad trip."

 

"Did we miss The Band?" Godric asked, passing on the offered brownies.

 

"They're setting up now," Tracy, Oliver's girlfriend, informed.

 

"Far out," Pam muttered, trying to light a fire despite everything being soaked.

 

"So, are you three, like, a thing?" Oliver asked, looking up at Eric who was peering down at him.

 

"Mmm..." Eric started, making a so-so motion with his hand. "Godric and I go back, way back."

 

"Yeah," Godric nodded, kicking back, his head in Tracy's lap, feet in Oliver's, "ancient history."

 

There was a pause, during which Pam looked up from the small fire she started and Eric mulled over the words, before both blond vampires cracked up laughing.

 

"Hey..." Tracy started, breaking through the laughter, "can we ask you a question?"

 

"Hm?" Godric cracked his eyes open. "Yes?"

 

Tracy and Oliver shared a look, before Oliver looked to Godric. "Are you, like, vampires?"

 

"What?" Eric asked, blinking.

 

"We squatted with this vampire chick for a while when we were in San Francisco, you know, in California? She was cold like you guys, she never ate, and we'd never see her during the day. Eventually she told us, and we let her drink from us... It was..." Oliver trailed off, thinking. "It was like we stopped being two people, or like, a person and a vampire, and just were one entity, it was deep, man."

 

Godric nodded. "That often happens when we feed."

 

"So you are vampires..."

 

They nodded and Oliver and Tracy smiled and shared looks. "Can we like... you know, feed you?"

 

"Well..." Eric wheedled, "we already fed a bit, but if we need to, sure."

 

"Groovy."

 

Silence fell over them as the beginning of Chest Fever started.

 

"So..." Oliver started, and Godric looked to him. "Do you guys need a place to crash tomorrow morning? Because we're staying to watch Hendrix, then we're off. If you guys need a ride somewhere during the day, we can keep you covered."

 

"Well, I need to get back to Texas," Godric started, "and if you need some work, or something... I am looking for a new assistant or two."

 

"We can do that... I mean, if you want."

 

There was more silence and they watched people dance and listened to music. Somehow Pam and Tracy ended up with a few other people, listening to some feminist manifesto and Godric's head was being cradled in Oliver's lap while Oliver pet his hair.

 

"Godric?"

 

"Yes, Oliver?"

 

"Can I kiss you?"

 

A growl from above them made Godric's lips curve upwards. "Don't mind Eric, he's a possessive child."

 

"I want to kiss him too."

 

Godric's eyes slid open and he looked up at Eric, who slid off the roof of the van with little effort, before climbing into the van as Godric sat up. Oliver inched towards Godric, hands moving to cup Godric's cheeks before they kissed, slow and sweet, when they pulled back Godric smiled, nuzzling against Oliver's neck, nipping teasingly at the tempting flesh before Eric crawled over and pressed his mouth firmly to Oliver's. They fell back into the van, a tangled mess of limbs, before Oliver crawled free long enough to shut the doors.

 

~*~

 

It was late when they pulled into the driveway of the Dallas house Godric owned. Clambering out of the van, still dressed in a mess of clothing, barefoot, and giggly from more than a little bit of Oliver's pot laced blood, Godric made his way to the door. Eric and Pam were quick to follow before Oliver and Tracy were following.

 

The door swung open and Isabelle, dressed in a tight, short black dress, leaned against the frame. Her lips curved up in a smile and she shook her head with a laugh. "I see you've made friends."

 

"You would have enjoyed yourself, Isabelle," Pam drawled, stretching as she crossed into the large house.

 

"Stan is at a meeting for you, Godric."

 

"Thank you Isabelle, this is Oliver and this is Tracy, they're going to be taking on Geoff's old position."

 

"Ah, lovely."

 

"You live here?" Tracy asked, looking back to Godric, who was stripping off his clothes shamelessly, revealing his tattoos and brands to their eyes.

 

"Me, Eric, Pam, Stan, Isabelle and now you two," Godric informed. "You'll be maintaining the human side of my affairs, I hope that's alright with you."

 

"I have a masters in business and Tracy has a masters in economics."

 

Godric turned, smiling. "I knew there was a reason I walked over to your van."

 

He and Eric disappeared up the stairs as Pam and Isabelle started talking about the work detail.

 

"Why the hell is there a bright yellow and pink monstrosity parked behind my 1965 Mustang?!"

 

"And this is Stan. Stan, this is Tracy and Oliver, they're going to be our new Geoff."

 

"...GODRIC!"


End file.
